


aunque lo intentara, no podría sin ti

by SeptemberSevertana



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22970365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeptemberSevertana/pseuds/SeptemberSevertana
Summary: Catra and Glimmer have been friends for eleven years, but they've never slow danced.
Relationships: Catra/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 59





	aunque lo intentara, no podría sin ti

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Ocean (Remix)" by Karol G and Jessie Reyez, because that's the song I imagine them dancing to. This was also written to "Rojo" by J Balvin because my YouTube recommendations obviously think I don't cry enough. I hope you guys enjoy. :)

“Why did we never dance?” 

Glimmer frowned. “I can only remember going to around one or two dances in the past few years.” 

Catra laughed softly. They were laying on the grass, looking at the stars. It was colder for the time of year; she’d given Glimmer her sweatshirt after fifteen minutes of listening to her shifting on the ground, trying to get comfortable. The dew on Catra’s back was just this side of unpleasantly damp, but Catra wouldn’t move. “No, I mean in high school.” 

Glimmer considered this. “We were all friends then, weren’t we?” 

“Yeah. We have Adora’s peacemaking skills to thank for that.” Glimmer and Catra had practically hated each other on sight when Adora introduced them: Adora and Catra had been childhood friends and Adora and Glimmer had met in middle school. Catra was jealous, Glimmer was bratty. Adora was in between them, trying to reconcile. 

It all seemed life or death, wondering if Adora would leave them behind. But she didn’t; she pulled Bow and Scorpia and everyone else into her circle. They all wanted her light, the way she carried herself, the way she made everyone feel special. 

“We went to all the high school dances, didn’t we? All the ones we were old enough to go to?” Glimmer wondered, turning to Catra for confirmation. “We must have danced with each other.” 

“Meaning you and Bow and Scorpia dragged the rest of us to all the dances,” Catra muttered. 

“Hey, dances are fun!” protested Glimmer. “The drama, the intrigue, the loud music!” 

“We didn’t dance with each other, though.” 

“How is that possible?” 

They paused to ponder that. 

Catra would always attend dances in true rebel fashion: riding in on a motorcycle, wearing a three-piece suit and sunglasses, secreting a flask in her inside jacket pocket, and donning a swagger that could fell women from miles away. Her hair spilled wild over her shoulders and she seemed high as a kite from the moment the dance began to hours after it ended. It was an elaborate illusion that she cultivated; she didn’t drink until she was nineteen and she didn’t smoke until a really difficult finals week two years later. She was happy, though. Dances had made her happy, despite all her complaining. 

Glimmer always wore sleeveless dresses that showed off the winged tattoos she’d gotten on her back at sixteen with a forged parental consent form. Her face seemed to glitter with makeup, and after a couple of hours, the barest sheen of sweat. Her high-heeled shoes would clack on the basketball court and would be removed halfway through the event; Glimmer would lose a few inches and her bare feet would kiss the polished wood floor. She’d stand right next to the speakers and shout over the music, laughing. She’d bask in the attention, in the strobe lights. She was happy, too. 

Both of them had danced with partners at some point. Catra and Glimmer would always save a slow dance for Adora, and Bow would pull one or the other of them into a lively swing or a tango or whatever he was feeling at that moment. Scorpia tended to step on people’s toes, so she often danced a little distance away, but Catra would drag her back into the fray (she wore boots for a reason, after all). A few times, Catra or Glimmer would dance with a date; Catra had brought a couple of girls to prom or homecoming, Glimmer brought Bow once. 

But Catra had never danced with Glimmer, not at Glimmer’s twenty-first birthday, giggling all over each other at the bar, not at any prom or homecoming or party. They’d known each other for eleven years and had never slow danced. 

Catra knew why. At least on her end. But she wanted to ask Glimmer, just to make sure. 

“I guess it just slipped our minds,” Glimmer finally said. “We danced with everybody else, so we must have just forgotten.” 

Catra sighed. “I guess so.” She hadn’t forgotten. It had been one of those pointed things in her mind that never left, not in years now. 

“We can fix that.” 

“Yeah?” Catra smiled. 

“Yeah. Why do you think I have music for slow dancing on my phone?” 

“Because you’re a hopeless romantic.” Catra propped herself on her elbows, pushing herself off the ground with her hands. She reached over to help Glimmer up too, her fingers brushing Glimmer’s wrists. 

“Any requests?” Glimmer sent an absent smile Catra’s way as she scrolled through a playlist. 

Catra couldn’t answer in an incriminating way. It was probably bad form to plead the fifth in front of her best friend. “I trust your judgment.” 

Finally alighting on a song, Glimmer turned the volume all the way up on her shitty speakers and tossed her phone on the grass. She held her arms out, reaching toward Catra’s neck, with no awkward moment of who got to lead between two women. Catra rested her hands on Glimmer’s waist, feeling the way her hips curved out, feeling the sweatshirt material hug her body. If Catra closed her eyes, she could pretend that this had happened hundreds of times before, like Catra had asked on a Saturday morning and Glimmer had barely awoken, dancing in their slippers and pajamas in the sun-coated kitchen of their apartment. Like Catra hadn’t been a coward. 

Glimmer’s fingers were playing with the little curls escaping the bun at the nape of Catra’s neck. She’d rested her head just underneath Catra’s chin. She was warm. They were sharing air now, the two of them. Catra wondered if they were backlit, they’d look like one person. 

It was dark and quiet but for the music and the wind rustling the trees at the bottom of the hill. The singer crooned; Catra held Glimmer just this side of too tight, inhaling her leftover perfume and the scent of her shampoo. The ridges of a dutch braid, and the bobby pins holding it together, caught the moonlight on the right side of Glimmer’s head. Catra’s thumb gently ran up and down Glimmer’s spine. 

They swayed back and forth through multiple plays of the song, too comfortable to extricate themselves and turn off the music. At some point, minutes or hours later, Catra softly kissed Glimmer on the forehead, and Glimmer drew her head back to look at Catra quizzically. 

“I’m in love with you.” Catra didn’t loosen her grip, didn’t want to seem like saying this scared the shit out of her. Just this once, she didn’t want any distance. 

Glimmer laid her head on Catra’s shoulder as if she had no more energy to hold it up. “Thank you for saying it.” 

“What?” 

“I thought I’d spend the rest of my life not knowing for sure.” 


End file.
